


The Scent of a Woman

by ClydeThistles



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Flash Fic, Flirting, Lilac & Gooseberries, Perfume, Yennaia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClydeThistles/pseuds/ClydeThistles
Summary: Yennefer's magazine is doing an article on queer women's careers. She interviews Tissaia, a perfumer.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 12
Kudos: 72





	The Scent of a Woman

The batteries in her voice recorder need charging and Yennefer hopes they last the next interview. She can always use her phone, but she prefers not to, it feels rude to have her mobile sitting on the table. Next on the list of ‘100 movers and shakers’ that her editor has compiled for the feature on queer women with successful careers, is a perfumer. Yennefer hadn’t realised that was even still a thing, she’d thought it was all lab technicians, chemists and synthetic compounds nowadays. But no, apparently there are still people with ‘highly-developed olfactory skills’ (a highfalutin expression for ‘they have oversensitive noses’ as far as Yennefer can tell) who decide what the next big fragrance will smell like and craft the original formula. To be honest, she’s unsure about this one. She’s spent the morning with a woman who arranges asylum for persecuted queers and another who is a war-zone journalist – perfume seems a little shallow to be included on the list with these women. But Yennefer is nothing if not openminded, so she has done her research and knows enough of the jargon to have a coherent conversation with this woman.

Or she would if the perfumer weren’t a goddess with set of dimples that threaten to reduce her to a stammering imbecile.

“Ms de Vries? I’m Yennefer, from the magazine.”

The woman holds out her hand and Yennefer shakes it,

“Of course, a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Tissaia.”

“Thanks. Where would you like to sit?”

Yennefer waits expectantly for Tissaia to lead them somewhere but then realises she is still holding the woman’s hand. She drops it hurriedly and tries to not flush when Tissaia smiles, teasing but not unkindly. They settle themselves at a counter in what Yennefer assumes is Tissaia’s lab, which is clean and bright but not in a sterile way. There are little bottles meticulously labelled and arranged neatly, pipettes, a large copper still. Yennefer arranges her recorder and notepad then clears her throat,

“So, perfume. What made you decide to make it your career?”

“Smell is the least understood sense. We don’t know much more about it now than we did hundreds of years ago. It conjures the most powerful vivid memories, but it is the hardest sense to recall. A person’s scent is the very essence of them. We’ve all had that moment when your pillows stop smelling of a loved one, only then does the realisation hit you that they are truly gone. And, given how intrinsic smell is to memory and emotion, I’ve always thought it important that we have the option to control it, to shape it.”

“And this control, it comes in a perfume bottle?”

“The scent you’re wearing communicates with people around you, even if they’re not aware of it. Our noses are programmed to process information unconsciously and relay it to our brains, affecting all sorts of hormone levels, chemical responses, emotive decisions.”

She draws a pyramid on a sheet of paper filling it in as she explains, “Even the structure of how we compose a fragrance is designed to convey messages. First, the ‘head’, your initial impression of a scent, what draws you in. Usually light, fresh notes. Then there is the ‘heart’, aromatic flowers or spices, and finally the ‘base’ which is usually a darker musk or woody note.”

She turns the page so Yennefer can see it, running her finger from top to bottom, “You apply your perfume before you go out on a date, and as the evening progresses, it moves from light and playful to intense warmth. If that’s not foreplay, then I don’t know what is.”

Tissaia raises her eyes to lock with Yennefer’s,

“And the best part is, the magic doesn’t happen until it’s warmed by your skin and given time to develop. It is us, our bodies, our desires, that are the final ingredient.”

Yennefer swallows hard, looking at her notes for her next question,

“And what scent does a perfumer choose for herself?”

Tissaia smiles and leans forward, tilting her head to the side. Yennefer’s stomach drops, she can’t actually be inviting her to sniff her, can she? Conscious this may cost her job but deciding it is worth it, Yennefer leans into the crook of Tissaia’s neck under her sharp jaw and inhales. It’s woody and herbal with citrus splashed through. It takes all Yennefer’s self-control not to bury her face in the warmth of Tissaia’s neck and pull her close. And, despite a Masters’ in English and years’ experience as a writer, all Yennefer can muster is a dreamy,

“You smell good.”

Tissaia chuckles softly then eyes Yennefer thoughtfully. Saying nothing, she starts to select various bottles, taking little drops of whatever is inside and blending them in a flask. When she is satisfied, she decants it, writing a neat label and tying it round the neck of the amphora-style bottle. Tissaia tilts it, her finger over the mouth and turns,

“May I?”

When Yennefer looks puzzled, Tissaia murmurs,

“Wrists out.”

She dabs at Yennefer’s wrists and then leans close to brush below her ears. Yennefer sighs, it’s sweet and floral, something fruity and sharp behind it and it is heavenly.

“What _is_ that?”

“It’s yours. I just made it. Lilac and gooseberry, and something else for later.”

“I love it. Thank you.”

They say their goodbyes, Yennefer leaving with her very own perfume and a stupid grin. Later that night, her scent has faded to a warm, herbal fragrance. It is vexing her that she cannot place it and then it hits her, it is what Tissaia was wearing. Yennefer grabs the bottle and sniffs but all she gets is the lilac and gooseberries. It takes the heat of Yennefer’s skin and patience to reveal Tissaia’s essence it would seem. Yennefer reads the label,

 _Yennefer_ is all that is on the front but when she turns it, she smiles. _Something to remember me by._

As if she could forget.


End file.
